


What Wasn't Meant To Be

by Bloopy42



Category: A Series of Unfortunate Events (TV), A Series of Unfortunate Events - Lemony Snicket
Genre: ASOUE - Freeform, Backstory, Bad Romance, Break Up, Canon Compliant, Children, Drabble Collection, Evil, F/M, Good, High School, Kitlaf, Love, Marriage Proposal, Mystery, OTP Feels, Past Relationship(s), Toxic Relationship, otp
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-22
Updated: 2019-10-22
Packaged: 2020-12-28 02:54:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21129584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bloopy42/pseuds/Bloopy42
Summary: "You really think one kind act will make me forgive you all your failings?""I haven't apologized."A collection of moments, small and big, between Kit and Olaf throughout their lives.





	1. Families

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which young paramours have time after class.

“If they think I’m going to waste my summer _reading_—a book the width of at least three roast beef sandwiches, no less—then they’ve got another thing coming!” The boy was not more than fifteen, but he already had the stubbornness and crotchety attitude of a man of a much riper age.

The girl accompanying him across the grounds of Prufrock Preparatory School had a different view. But that didn’t stop her from keeping pace with him, or stealing glances when she thought he wasn’t looking.

“I think you’d find reading even the first few pages of _Anna Karenina_ far less of a waste of time than complaining.”

He snorted, but ceased his rant.

“So?” He asked the girl knowingly. “How far have you gotten?”

“One chapter left.”

He blinked to keep from rolling his eyes.

“We were given the assignment this morning, K.”

“Well, it’s a pillar of Russian literature,” She shrugged off the accomplishment like it had been as easy as buttering morning toast.

“Every word of that sentence was dull.”

It made Kit laugh, his skepticism. No one ever spoke to her like he did, and though she would often haughtily try to teach him better, there were moments, like just then, when she appreciated his blunt honesty.

“A theatrical type such as yourself should take more of an interest in classic stories,” She pointed out.

“An actor draws from within, not from without,” He puffed his chest out. “And not from a stuffy _novelist_ like Lenin Tolstoy.”

“Leo.”

“That’s what I said.”

She tried not to mock him. She knew he was sensitive.

“Maybe you just need someone to read it to you aloud,” was her suggestion. 

“Maybe I do,” He eyed her with a smile. “How long do you have?”

“Lemony is staying after to help with the school paper. Jacques is in the gymnasium. Could be hours,” she replied, already looking ahead at their favorite bench on the quad where their feet had automatically pushed them towards.

“I like Jacques,” the boy said as they reached their destination. “You know what he said to me the other day?”

“What?”

“’Keep the hell away from my sister.’”

Kit sighed.

“How charming.”

“I’ve already failed him,” He said almost proudly, with a side look at Kit. “You have two pencils stuck in your hair, you know.”

“I know,” She said.

They perched awkwardly side by side, while Kit rummaged through her book bag to retrieve a lengthy and battered set of bound pages. She cleared her throat, and the boy smirked, his eyebrow twitching. She turned to the first page.

“’All happy families are alike;” She read in a whisper, as though reciting sacred text. “Each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.’”

She was already aware she wouldn’t make it past the first sentence without his interruption, but that didn’t make her any less nettled.

“That’s stupid,” He concluded immediately.

Kit frowned. “You can’t possibly determine a book’s worth by the beginning words.”

“Absolutely I can. How else would one know to keep reading? Besides, it’s wrong.”

“How so?”

“Happy families are _not_ all alike. Happiness is measured just as variably as unhappiness,” He scoffed. “…Isn’t it?”

“You seem to feel strongly about this, O,” Kit gently teased.

“_Our_ families, for example,” The boy went on, but he wasn’t looking at Kit or the book anymore. Just off into the courtyard where a vast space of emptiness was before them. “They’re happy. But they’re not the same. Not at all.”

“That’s what we’re told, at least,” She replied. “That we’re a happy family.”

“And how would we know the difference?” He asked at last. 

For that, Kit had no answer.

She leaned her head against his shoulder, and held the book up to block both of their views of the surrounding world. She tried to keep reading, but found the words on the page were not enough to distract her from her wonderings. Soon, they settled into a peaceful quiet.


	2. Children

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the school chums try to enjoy themselves.

Her brother cut her off before she entered the small café to enjoy root beer floats with her friends. He stood in front of the door with his arms folded, and said in a hush, “Why do you insist on inviting him everywhere?”

“Why do _you_ insist on being so aloof around him?”

“I’m a writer. I’m always aloof.”

“Be kind. We’re all in the same boat, after all. So to speak…”

“I might one day be in the same boat as a hungry tiger. That does not mean I have to enjoy its company.”

“Lemony…”

“You detested him not too long ago.”

“He’s not the person you think he is,” Kit sniffed.

“That’s true for one of us.”

She garbled

“You’re the only one who has a problem with him. Even Jacques has come around.”

“Jacques doesn’t have to sit next to him in class and watch him fill his notebook with anagrams of obscene words.”

“Words are something you two have in common,” Kit tried half-heartedly. “Your annoyance isn’t invalid. Just keep it to yourself, and enjoy your favorite fizzy drink. Beatrice is waiting just inside,” Her tone turned playful in the hopes that it would end his frustration.

“Another thing,” He said, though he slowly began to open the door and unleash the jingle of the bell. “I don’t like the way he becomes jealous of Beatrice when she lands the lead roles in our school plays.” 

“Perhaps you don’t like the way he always plays her counterpart,” a crinkled smile was encroaching on her features, much to Lemony’s chagrin. “Perhaps you don’t like that they are in the same theater class, and you are not.”

“That’s not—“ But he was caught off guard. “He’s not like us.”

“Drop it.” And he dared not argue further with his older sister.

Kit saw his wariness melt instantly when they beheld the little table in the corner, where Jacques, Beatrice, and Olaf sat in contemplative silence. Floats were ordered, schoolwork was discussed, and ice and bread were figuratively broken.

“There’s really nothing to it,” Kit was saying to the table. “Hang gliding is a skill as any other, like learning the piano. You just have to trust the wind to catch you. Our parents did have a tough time at it when it came to teaching the boys…”

“Meaning they had to stop me from pushing my baby brother off the edge of a cliff,” Jacques snickered. “He was terrified, I thought I was helping.”

“Exposure to fear is not always the best remedy,” Beatrice smiled, putting her hand on Lemony’s shoulder.

“Our training was kept separate from then on.”

“It just doesn’t seem like a necessary skill,” Olaf muttered suddenly. Everyone turned to look at him, suddenly stoic.

“How…how are your parents doing, O?” asked Beatrice kindly. “You got to visit them last weekend, didn’t you?” Kit knew at once it was the wrong question to ask.

“Since you asked,” Olaf leaned back. “My mother has been on edge as of late, and taking it out on her poor son in some very imaginative ways. Meanwhile, dear old dad is never home, but what else is new? They’re both as unhappy as always. A wonderfully, unhappy family.”

There was a pause in which no one dared speak. Brave as always, however, Beatrice was the first to respond.

“My parents have been on edge, too.”

“Ours as well,” Kit whispered. “In their letters. They’re saying less and less.” 

“And fewer and fewer words,” Jacques agreed.

Being “on edge” can mean a number of different things. It can literally mean standing at the edge of a cliff without a hang glider, where the slightest gust of wind or a light push from an older brother could send you tumbling into the abyss. It can also mean feeling _as though_ you are standing at the edge of a cliff without a hang-glider, or hang-gliding lessons. In either scenario, side effects of being on edge include irritability, fear, and melancholy. All things that a child never wishes to see in a parent.

None of the teenagers at that table wanted to say it, mainly because they knew they were all thinking it. There was every probability that their parents were all “on edge” because they feared they were about to fall off a metaphorical cliff. The “cliff”, so to speak, would be a secret. Just like all the other secrets that were kept from them because they were young.

“If I ever have children, I won’t keep secrets from them,” Beatrice declared suddenly.

“You say that now,” Olaf sneered.

“The last time we went back to the farm, mother and father fought behind closed doors the whole time,” Jacques said quietly. “I’m certain it was about us.”

“They blame themselves, you know,” Kit mumbled. “Even after all these years. Even though they see the importance of V.F.D.”

“I blame them, too,” said Olaf. 

Before any of them could argue, Lemony did something none of them were expecting. He chuckled, as though remembering a funny joke. He leaned in, elbows on the table, as though about to tell them a story.

“’They fuck you up, your mom and dad,’” He said, hardly containing his smile. It was infectious, Kit caught on and laughed.

“’They may not mean to, but they do,’” She quoted.

“They fill you with the faults they had,” Lemony continued. “And add some extra just for you.”

“’But they were fucked up in their turn, by fools in old-style hats and coats,” Jacques had chimed in, grinning while he took a large sip of his drink. “Who half the time were soppy stern, and half at one another’s throats.’”

“’Man hands on misery to man,’” Lemony had closed his eyes, and the rest of them knew he was reading the words of the verse in his head. “It deepens like a coastal shelf. Get out as early as you can…’”

“And don’t have any kids yourself!” All four of them chanted the last line and burst out laughing, clanking their drinks together as though cheering their pact to never become parents.

Even Olaf was still smiling after they’d downed their last drops of root beer and ice cream.

“Let’s hope the cycle ends with us, then,” He said, almost ominously. “No more children preened from birth to be members of a secret organization they never wanted to be a part of. No more unhappy families. No more lost childhoods.”

And, for the first and very last time, Lemony agreed with the young count.


End file.
